The boy flinched, pulling the phone out with trembling hands. Bryce and the other students backed away from him as if he had a contagious disease. Jason stared at the screen, his face turning an ashen gray.
“It’s… it’s the bank,” Jason whispered, looking at his father.
“Answer it, boy,” I commanded.
Jason swallowed hard and hit the speaker button. A cold, professional voice echoed from the small speaker.
“Mr. Jason Sterling, this is the asset recovery division of First National. We are notifying you that the title to the Bugatti Chiron you are currently leasing has been revoked due to extreme margin failure at Sterling Capital. A recovery team is currently on-site to take possession of the vehicle. Please do not attempt to access the car.”
The call clicked off.
We all turned our heads toward the campus entrance. Driving slowly up the main lane, led by two local police cruisers with their lights flashing, was a massive heavy-duty flatbed tow truck. The truck pulled directly in front of the VIP parking spaces, backing up toward the dark blue carbon-fiber hypercar.
“No,” Jason gasped, the reality of his complete destruction finally piercing his arrogant armor. “No, no, no! That’s my car! I own it!”
Jason broke into a dead sprint, abandoning his father and racing toward the parking lot. He reached the Bugatti just as two burly repossession agents hooked the heavy steel chains to the front axle. Jason tried to grab one of the men by the shoulder, screaming curses, but the local police officer immediately stepped in, placing a heavy hand on Jason’s chest and pushing him forcefully back.
Jason stumbled. His expensive loafers lost traction on the asphalt, and he fell backward. He landed directly in the puddle of wet dirt and fertilizer he had dumped on me hours earlier.
The boy who thought he owned the world was suddenly sitting in the mud, crying hysterically, his tailored blazer ruined, as he watched his multi-million-dollar status symbol being dragged forcefully up the steel ramp of a tow truck.
The board members under the tent stood in absolute, paralyzed silence. No one offered to help Richard, who was still kneeling in the grass, sobbing quietly as he realized twenty years of ruthless corporate raiding had been erased by a single phone call from a man in dirty overalls.
Headmaster Harrison approached me, his hands clasped nervously in front of his chest. “Mr. Vance… what… what would you like me to do with them?”
I looked down at the ruined, crying billionaire at my feet. The darkness that had flared inside my chest was gone, replaced once again by the quiet, peaceful emptiness I preferred. The monster had done its job, and now it could go back to sleep.
“Have security escort Richard Sterling off my property,” I told Harrison, my voice calm and quiet again. “He is no longer welcome on this campus. Ensure that Jason is formally expelled by the end of the day. Oh, and Harrison?”
“Yes, Mr. Vance? Anything,” Harrison replied frantically.
“Leo’s scholarship,” I said. “Endow it fully, under my name. Ensure that boy never has to worry about paying for a single textbook or meal until he graduates from whatever university he chooses.”
“Immediately, sir. Consider it done.”
I nodded, satisfied. I reached down into my chest pocket, taking the solid gold Vertu phone. I held it for a moment, feeling the heavy, cold metal that represented so much pain, so much power, and so much of a past I didn’t want anymore. I handed the phone to Harrison.
“Lock that back in my safe,” I said softly.
Without looking at Richard or the crowd again, I turned around and walked slowly back down the white carpet. My heavy boots left a fading trail of mud as I headed across the lawn, walking toward the quiet sanctuary of the greenhouse. I had a ruined blue hydrangea that desperately needed pruning, and the soil was waiting.
THE END